


Bump in the Night

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all the horrors are in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be happy and, instead, it came out kind of angsty? But there's happiness! I promise!

Ian knows Mickey's biggest secret.

It's not that he's gay. It's not that he loves it when Ian sticks his tongue in his ass. It's not that he moans Ian's name and shudders every time Ian bends him over something before Ian even touches him anywhere but on the back of his neck.

No. 

Mickey's biggest secret is Mr. Bitface.

Ian only knows because one day during a particularly...energetic round on Mickey's bed the lube rolled off the mattress and Ian had gotten down on the ground to find it under the bed, since it was their last bottle, and he had every intention of riding Mickey into the ground again before they'd have time to go to the store.

Ian had to move a box to get to the bottle, but when he did, all he saw were two black, beady eyes staring at him.

"Shit! Shit! Fucking _shit_ , Mick." He jerks back from under the bed, slamming his head on the frame. "Ouch. Shit."

"What the fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey leaned over the side of the bed to look at Ian. "Was almost asleep."

"There's a fucking rat or raccoon or something fucking under your fucking bed."

"A what? What are you fucking on, Ian?" Mickey rolls his eyes. "There's nothing under my...oh." 

Ian rubs the back of his head and narrows his eyes at Mickey. "Oh?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it. It's nothing to worry about. Swear."

Ian shrugs. "Okay." He smiles at Mickey then dives back under the bed. Mickey tries to grab him, but ends up pinching the sensitive skin of Ian's inner thigh. "Ow! Fuck! Quit it!" He snaps as Mickey does it again. He grabs whatever it is that's staring at him, then wriggles out from under the bed and holds whatever it is in front of him. "What the fuck is this?"

It has got to be the _ugliest_ thing Ian's seen, and that says a lot given how often they shop at Goodwill. It's got sparse patches of fur that's matted down and dusty, but the majority of it is threadbare, stuffing pushing out between the strained fabric. There are two huge black eyes that stare at him unblinkingly, a space where a nose most likely used to be, and a thread mouth, half of it hanging loosely like a deranged moustache.

Mickey grabs for it, but Ian pulls it out of the way. Mickey nearly tumbles off the bed, but catches himself at the last minute. "Give it the fuck here, Ian."

"Not until you tell me what it is."

"What the fuck do you think it is, fuckhead?"

"Well, if I hadn't found it in _your_ room, I'd think it was a stuffed animal. But the odds of such a thing being in the room of _Mickey fucking Milkovich_ have got to be slim to none. 

"Fuck off and give it here." He tries to grab for it again, but Ian holds it up further. He's got inches on Mickey's reach, so he's not worried about losing this battle. "Give it the fuck to me." Mickey's voice is low and calm and all the more dangerous for it, but there's something in it. An almost imperceptable tremble. "Now."

Ian's never actually seen Mickey cry. He's seen his eyes fill up and glint in the light, water as he rubbed them. But he's never seen him actually cry. Never seen a tear trickle down his cheek unimpeded. "Mickey?"

"Just give him..." He catches himself and clears his throat. "Give it here."

Ian gets off the floor and sits on the bed, handing the...bear? to Mickey. "Who is he?"

Mickey looks up sharply, looking ready to beat the shit out of Ian if he's mocking him. He relaxes when he sees Ian's face and sits up, legs crossed, the stuffed animal on his ankles. He stares down at it. "Mr. Bitface."

"Bitface?"

"I couldn't say bitchface. My dad called my mom that sometimes, so I thought it was her name. And so that was the best thing I could think to name him."

"Oh."

"Had him since I was a baby. Got him from the hospital. I was a fucking runt then - and don't you dare fucking say anything about me being one now or I'll punch you in the fucking dick - and had to stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Early, so they had to monitor my lungs and shit. Feed me through some tube like an old man. Gave this to me when I left. Sat in my crib at night. Went with me everywhere I went or I'd cry like a, well, baby. When I got older and my mom would put me to bed, she'd put him in bed next to me and tell me he'd protect me from the monster."

Ian's voice is quiet. "Your dad."

"Yeah. Didn't actually work, 'specially once she was gone. I threw him away three days after the funeral. That was the first time I caught him on Mandy. I was young and stupid, and he wasn't fucking her. Said he was tucking her in. I knew whatever it was was wrong. And after he was done with her, he came in and whipped me with a belt across the face to wake me up and then beat the shit out of me with it telling me I didn't fucking see anything."

"Jesus, Mickey."

"So he didn't protect me. And I ripped out his fur and threw him away. Mandy found him in the trash and brought him back to me. She wanted him, wanted him to keep her safe, but he didn't work. So I stole money from my dad and bought her something else. Asked the fucking clerk if it would keep the bad things away, and she said yes. She fucking lied too."

Ian reaches over and pets Mr. Bitface's head then lets his hand slide down until it's resting on Mickey's. "What if I keep you safe instead."

"I don't fucking need anyone to keep me safe. I can take care of myself. Made fucking sure of that."

"I don't mean from Terry." He reaches with his other hand, and brushes Mickey's hair out of his face then traces a line across Mickey's furrowed brow. "I mean from what's in here. The bad things. The memories. We'll find them and root them out and replace them with something good."

"You got your own shit in your head. You don't need to worry about the shit in mine."

"Yes. I do." Ian makes Mickey look at him. "You protect me from my monsters. I'll protect you from yours. Mr. Bitface can observe and see how it's done." He takes the bear from Mickey and places it on the top of the headboard. "See?"

"Oh, fuck no, Gallagher. You want me to have _more_ nightmares from that fucking thing looking down on me?" Mickey grabs the bear and tosses him toward the trash. "I don't need him anymore, right?" He leans in and presses his forehead to Ian's. "Got you, right?"

"Yeah." Ian nods, then nuzzles Mickey's mouth with his own. "Damn right."

"Good. Now, tell me you got the lube and get the fuck back on the bed."


End file.
